[Rimbaud]

Rimbaud lowered the lantern, yet before even the light reached the items strewn on the floor, the coppery scent of blood came to his nostrils. A small cloak lay on the ground, sodden with blood. Rimbaud touched some to his fingers and brought them to the light. A red, neither deep nor light.

"No orc blood this," he muttered, and Estelyn nearly relaxed, until she realised what that entailed.

Rimbaud rose from the heaped clothing. He studied his fingers in the light,turning them over as if searching for answers. Estelyn shifted uncomfortably. The cold had numbed her fingers.

"The wound the bearer of this cloak took was grievous," mused the Innkeeper. "Yet there have been no traces of blood between here and the trapdoor we entered through."

"We have more than one helper," said Estelyn, quickly, the emphasis and question clear.

Rimbaud simply nodded, barely visible to her in the dim and flickering light.

Estelyn moved towards the light that gently suffused the end of the right-hand fork. The path slanted upward, and was formed from drier rock, with earth and sand evening out the surface. Rimbaud moved after her. As they neared the entrance, they saw that the light filtered in through the leaves of a rhododendrum bush. Pink flowers were incongrously scattered about the egress.

Rimbaud stopped,and Estelyn moved on several paces before she realised. He was looking back into the cavernous black, back towards the blood-soaked cloak they had found.

"No body," he said. Estelyn nodded. She agreed the wound must have been fatal. "Our helper lost a companion," he stated.

"Or would dearly like to have us think so," said Estelyn. Rimbaud snarled wordlessly and turned back towards her. He grinned suddenly at her, a light in his blue eyes, limned by the light from the outside.

"I need to breathe outside," he said.

"Mind we are not seen," she said quickly.

****************************

They pushed gently through the foliage at the end of the passage. They emerged blinking into the pale wintry sunlight of late afternoon. Rimbaud had no concept of how long they had been underground, but he estimated two or three hours at most.

They made a light lunch, and spoke little. Here, the Anduin curved against Emyn Arnen on the far side, a snake's back of river towards Minas Tirith on the near shore. Trees surrounded the stony clearing and bushes that covered the tunnel's mouth, tall and deciduous. They felt protected and glad for the open air, although both knew it should be brief.

**********************************

"We should move, Master Innkeeper," said the Princess, rising and smoothing her tunic under her robes. She disappeared into the trees for a short time, and Rimbaud packed away their provisions. He stared out at the broad stillness of the Anduin through a gap in the trees. He wondered what lay in store for them. This exit was still undisturbed, they had been puzzled to discover.

When Estelyn returned, they made their way back into the darkness. Rimbaud had refilled their lantern from his pack. They rearranged the leafy doorway as best they could.

"Once again we go forth," he murmured, and she laughed gently. The darkness swallowed them and the light from their lantern.

The clearing was once again left silent and undisturbed. It seemed as though it had never been visited.

[ December 11, 2002: Message edited by: Rimbaud ]